


Repurposed

by spuffyduds



Category: due South
Genre: 100-1000 Words, Blindfolds, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-31
Updated: 2010-01-31
Packaged: 2017-10-06 21:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spuffyduds/pseuds/spuffyduds





	Repurposed

Fraser is ripping up one of his old t-shirts to use for rags in the shoeshine kit when he glances over at Ray, half-asleep on the sofa, and has to just--stop, accomplish nothing for a moment, just let the feelings of astonishment and wonder and ridiculous luckiness wash over him.

Months into this, and Ray still has that effect on him. He wonders if it will ever stop.

And then Ray makes a sleepy noise, shifts a little and drapes an arm over his eyes. Blocking out half his face like that draws Fraser's attention even more sharply to his mouth, his slightly parted lips; not an area that has ever suffered with a lack of Fraser's attention, honestly, but to have it accentuated like that--and to know, in addition, that Ray can't see him looking--

Fraser looks down at the strips of t-shirt in his lap and draws in a breath sharply.

He clutches the rags tight in hands grown suddenly shaky, and walks over to the couch.

"Ray," he says.

"Mmmm?" Ray says, lips quirking, eyes still hidden. Fraser's pulse is thudding in his ears.

"I want to try something," he says, and his voice sounds thick, strange.

Ray moves his arm, looks at him; the languid lines of his body grow alert, but he says, as he always does, "Sure."

Fraser drops to his knees, drapes a strip of the tee over Ray's eyes, waits.

"Okay," Ray says.

He adds strips until the layers add up to opacity, ties them carefully behind Ray's head.

"Stand up," he whispers. He did not mean to whisper, but it seems to be all his suddenly dry throat can manage.

Ray stands, first reaching a hand out searchingly and finding Fraser's shoulder to hold onto.

Fraser unzips Ray's jeans and strips him out of jeans and boxers. He holds himself back from leaning into Ray's crotch, nuzzling at the pubic hair as he would like to; but indulges himself a little by clasping a hand around each of Ray's warm ankles for a moment, enjoying how that looks.

He stands and peels Ray out of his t-shirt, stretching the neck a bit so as not to disarray the makeshift blindfold.

Ray stands quiet and still. Fraser runs a hand softly down his back, curves it around his buttocks, amazed at his cooperation with simply being--on display like this. He pushes gently between Ray's shoulderblades with just his fingertips, and Ray takes a couple of halting steps forward.

Fraser pushes a little harder, toward the hall and their bedroom, and Ray walks, but his hands come up, palms out in front, feeling for obstacles, protecting himself.

That hurts, somehow, and Fraser whispers, "Don't."

Ray drops his hands.

Fraser should be happy with that, that should be enough; but he finds himself turning Ray, steering him with fingertips to the back, a little _before_ they reach the bedroom doorway.

He stops Ray with a gentle pull-back on the shoulder when he's just shy of walking into the doorframe, then puts his fingertips between Ray's shoulderblades again as if he's going to push forward. Ray's face is only a couple of inches from the frame; he _must_ feel his breath bouncing back from the surface, and his hands are twitching at his sides, but he's not raising them.

Fraser closes his eyes and leans his face into Ray's neck for a moment, then loops an arm around his waist and pulls him sideways and safely through the doorway.

He stretches Ray out on the bed and does everything that Ray likes best; he seems to like all of it even better with the element of surprise added. Ray yelps when Fraser dips his head to bite delicately at a nipple, shudders all over when Fraser runs his tongue down Ray's stomach. Fraser teases him with fingertips on his thighs and cock for a long time, much too gently, then suddenly takes Ray's cock in his mouth; Ray moans most satisfyingly, arches and digs his fingers into Fraser's shoulders, rolls his head side to side as he comes, his sweatdamp hair dark against the blindfold.

Fraser swallows, licks him clean, then crawls up the bed and touches a finger to Ray's lower lip; Ray obligingly opens his mouth, and Fraser slides in. He locks his arms, holds himself over Ray and rocks into his mouth, losing himself in the feel of Ray's tongue on his cock, in the feel of the soft ripped cotton of the blindfold brushing his belly when he thrusts.

After he comes he's clumsy with pleasure, with satisfaction; can't get his fingers to work properly, can't get the blindfold off.

Ray laughs and takes it off himself--and, Fraser notes, puts it away in his nightstand drawer. For future use, Fraser hopes, and then wonders: on him or me?

He ought to have some sort of reaction to that thought, renewed lust or a rush of nervousness or perhaps both, but he's so relaxed, so sleepy now. And as he drifts off he finds himself dwelling on an image, a moment from the evening; oddly, though, not from the sex. He keeps seeing Ray, face almost hitting the doorframe, fingers dancing at his sides, wanting to put his hands out but not putting them out, keeping them down for Fraser; and he pulls Ray's head onto his shoulder, kisses his damp hair as their breathing falls into rhythm with each other, into the cadence of sleep.

 

\--END--


End file.
